


The Trouble With Tribbles (And Teammates and Tremors)

by whitchry9



Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Aliens, Bruce is Tony's favourite, Deaf Character, Deaf Clint Barton, Dubious Science, Epilepsy, F/M, Gen, Hurt Tony Stark, Hurt/Comfort, Jarvis is Tony's favourite, M/M, Medical, Pets, Robots, Sass, Science Bros, Seizures, Stream of Consciousness, Team Bonding, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony hates everything, Tony's internal monologue makes no sense, Tribbles, giant wasps are a thing, hints of relationships, preslash, the occasional mole people, tony does science, tony needs to take care of himself and steve is just worried, tribbles happen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-24
Updated: 2014-07-15
Packaged: 2018-01-26 07:54:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 20,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1680572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whitchry9/pseuds/whitchry9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Tony redesigns the EEG, hacks into SHIELD computers to force him to do something he wants to do, and oh yeah has some seizures. And then Tribbles happen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a short thing. Then it managed to grow to 20k words and Tribbles appeared, which I take no blame for.
> 
> Rating is mostly for language.

Tony woke up on the floor of his bathroom with a pounding headache that normally came after a serious drinking binge, and he knew that wasn't the case, because they were just fighting giant wasps (or something, what the hell did he know, he just pointed and shoot where Rogers told him to, or mostly anyway) only the day before, and he may or may have not gotten himself a concussion, so he definitely wasn't drinking, because even he knew that was a no no, drinking to get fantastically drunk when you had a head injury.

And maybe that was the cause of the headache, the concussion, because head injuries hurt, right?

“Jarvis?” he muttered, because surely his AI would have been concerned about him passing out with a head injury, because he was such a mother hen about those sorts of things.

He sat up, noting that everything, and he meant _every fucking thing,_ hurt, and that was also probably from the flying wasp things too, right?

“Good morning sir,” Jarvis said with notable relief, and huh that was weird because Jarvis had what people would call emotions, sure, but relief at Tony bugging him? Nope. “It is 10:37 am. The temperature outside is 70 degrees, partly cloudy with a ten percent chance of precipitation later today.”

There was a slight hesitation, and oh boy that couldn't have been good, before Jarvis spoke again. “You have been in the bathroom since 8:52pm the previous evening when you said you were going to take a shower.”

Tony frowned. “That's weird. Right? I normally don't sleep in the bathroom.” He sniffed himself. “And I totally didn't make it to the shower.” He frowned. “You didn't think that was odd J?”

“Of course I did sir,” Jarvis said defensively. “But before you entered the bathroom, you said, and I quote 'Jarvis I am a grown man and I am going to take a shower, I swear to god if you bother me or anyone else on my behalf I will donate you to SHIELD and let Fury use you as his personal assistant', which I found amusing.”

“Of course you did,” Tony muttered. “And there's no video feed in the bathroom, so who knows what I did last night. I could have just fallen asleep, or I could have held a party and then forgotten about it in my hungover state.”

“No one entered or left the bathroom while you were in it, and given that there is no alcohol in that room, it would have been a very dull party,” Jarvis noted dryly.

“Alright smart ass, I know that. So I fell asleep. In my clothes. In the bathroom. I think that's a first; is that a first?”

“As far as I can tell, it is indeed, sir.”

Tony smirked. “All right then. Make note of that, apparently I'm getting old. Is someone making breakfast?”

Jarvis checked, and Tony began stripping his clothes off while he waited.

“Captain Rogers is making blueberry pancakes in the main kitchen. Agent Barton and Thor are also there, and Doctor Banner is planning to join them shortly.”

Tony nodded. “Okay. Can you let them know I'll be there soon? Shower, then coffee. Then food. Probably.”

“Of course sir.”

“Oh, and J, don't mention the sleeping in the bathroom thing. I'll never live it down.”

“Indeed, sir,” Jarvis noted, and it was definitely with a smirk, Tony could tell. It didn't matter that Jarvis didn't have a mouth or face to smirk with, it was definitely, without doubt, a smirk. Who the hell programmed his AI to be such a sarcastic menace anyway?

Jarvis must have known that Tony was mentally berating him, because the water ran slightly too cold until he apologized.


	2. Chapter 2

Two days later, the team went out for dinner, which Tony didn't go to because he said he was tired. And it was true, he was tired, and wow if he was admitting that he must be damn near exhausted, but there had been the thing with the robots the day before and Tony had spent way too much time since then fixing his armour, because the damn things shot at him, could you believe it, shot at him, and yes, some sleep would be good.

Steve gave him A Look, and asked if he was okay, and he said of course he was, he always was, and Jarvis backed him up on that, helping saying that sir had not slept in 76 hours or something like that, Tony was sort of listening while looking at Steve make The Face through half open eyes.

So the rest of the team went out, and Tony was totally going to bed, really, he was, but Dum-E kept whining at him about a sticky joint or something, and he was going to deal with that and go straight to bed except he fell asleep on the floor or something.

 

Probably the 'or something', because generally he didn't piss himself when he fell asleep, unless he was really getting old, and last time he checked, he hadn't had that many birthdays, right?

“J'vis?” he muttered, wondering why the hell everything hurt and ow, the robots didn't do that much damage.

“Sir,” the AI said with obvious relief. “The Avengers are on their way back now. You appear to have had a seizure.”

“Wha?” he mumbled, attempting to sit up, using Dum-E as a crutch.

“You lost consciousness, went into convulsions for 36 seconds, and were unconscious for 8 minutes and 56 seconds.”

“No...” Tony said slowly. “That's not right. It can't be. What did you tell my team?”

“I told them that you were in urgent need of assistance. I did not think you would appreciate my calling an ambulance, and considering that it would take them roughly the same time to return home, that calling them would be the best option.”

“Where are they?”

“Two minutes out,” Jarvis replied patiently. “As far as I can tell, you have not been poisoned or had any other interference that could have caused a seizure.”

Tony frowned. “Like what?”

“I assume that magic could have caused this, but I detected no such evidence.”

Tony hummed in response. His brain was still foggy.

“Shall I inform the Avengers of your seizure and subsequent awakening?”

“No,” Tony snapped. “Don't tell them I had a seizure. But yeah, tell them I'm fine now, cause otherwise they'll worry.”

“Sir-”

“Jarvis, I forbid you from telling them I had a seizure, or otherwise hinting at it. Tell them I am conscious now, that there was an incident in the workshop, that you overreacted, _as you often do,_ and that I am going to take a shower and will be completely and utterly fine on my own, without help, and they should return to their dinner.”

“Of course sir,” Jarvis said, obviously not pleased.

“Keep them out of the workshop too,” Tony sighed. “Dum-E, clean this up,” he told him, gesturing to the mess he made on the ground, shame flooding his chest.

He headed for the shower, still unable to wrap his head around in. A seizure. Him.

It would require investigating, of course, but he couldn't let the team know.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is the only one not from Tony's point of view.   
> Shrug.

“Jarvis?” Steve asked breathlessly as soon as he stepped foot into the tower. “Is Tony okay?”

There was a momentary pause, and a sigh before the AI spoke. “Sir regrets to inform you that there was a slight incident, which I overreacted to,” and wow, Steve could hear the sarcasm in that, “And that he is clearly fine now, and would like to be left alone. He would also like me to tell you that you should return to your dinner.”

Steve frowned. “But you said-”

“I know what I said,” Jarvis interrupted. “I was... mistaken. I apologize for your inconvenience. I will endeavour to not let it happen again.”

“That's bullshit Jarvis, and we all know it,” Clint announced, sauntering around Natasha to throw himself on an armchair.

“Well Agent Barton, that is what I've been instructed to tell you. If you would like to hear it from sir himself, he is currently showering, but plans to 'hide' in the workshop for the foreseeable future.”

“Of course he is,” Steve muttered.

“Can you tell us anything that happened Jarvis?” Bruce asked, knowing how the AI was programmed. Tony may have forbid him to speak of certain things, but Jarvis could work around the programming in most cases if it was something he was worried about.

Jarvis was silent for a moment, thinking.

“I regret to inform you that I cannot say anything else on the matter at this time, as per sir's request. I apologize.”

“Tis alright,” Thor said solemnly. “We shall speak with the Man of Iron ourselves to see what happened to our beloved teammate.”

“Well, we sort of lost out on dinner,” Bruce pointed out, sighing slightly.

“I vote take out,” Clint said, still sprawled over the chair in a way that most humans would have found uncomfortable.

“Of what then?” Natasha said.

“Thai.” “Pizza.” “The large Macs.” “Italian.” “Chinese,” said Steve, Clint, Thor, Bruce, and Natasha in turn.

They all frowned at each other.

“Jarvis, whose turn is it to pick?” Steve asked, ever the peacekeeper.

“Based on who has not chosen for the longest period of time, it is Agent Barton's turn to pick.”

“Yes!” he shouted, leaping up from his chair and pumping his fist in the air. “Jarvis, the usual pizza order please.”

“And a caesar salad,” Steve sighed, ever mindful of the nutritional guidelines that SHIELD, and therefore also Agent Coulson, were pushing on them.

“Of course,” Jarvis said graciously. “They should arrive in twenty minutes. I will inform sir, as he should be able to join you by then.”

“Thank you Jarvis,” Steve sighed, exhausted again by... well, everything.

The team piled in the elevator, which Tony assured them time and time again could definitely hold all of them, but Steve still worried about. Mostly about Thor and his tendency to accidentally fry anything near him when he got overexcited. Thankfully, he was still a bit down about it not being his turn to pick dinner, and the disappointing lack of 'large Macs', or whatever he was talking to Clint about, who was mostly smiling and nodding while signing things to Natasha.

 

Tony showed up shortly after the food did, fashionably late as ever, and Steve frowned at him. Tony sighed, and helped himself to two slices, throwing himself on the couch next to Thor, which was always risky.

 

Clint argued that because it was his turn to pick the food, it was also his turn to pick the movie, which Steve admitted made sense.

“Fine, Clint, you can pick Jarvis, can you set out a schedule for who gets to pick dinner and the movie from now on?”

“Of course Captain.”

“Clint, if you pick Brave again, I will strangle you with my crazy bread,” Natasha said, low and threatening. No one else blinked. She could do it, probably at least, Steve figured, and he didn't want to find out.

Horror flashed over Clint's face for a second. “Of course I wasn't going to pick Brave, Tasha, don't be silly. Wall-E!”

 

Steve smiled as the opening sequence rolled. He knew for a fact it was the bots' favourite movie, for obvious reasons.

By the time Eve showed up, Tony was already asleep, tucked neatly under Thor's giant arm, which was cradling him protectively from Clint's mischievous glance. Steve knew that look, it meant he was only moments away from lobbing projectiles, which in this case would probably be the croutons from the leftover salad. Thankfully, Natasha noticed the look as well, and elbowed Clint in the ribs. Steve helpfully removed the pizza boxes and salad bowl to rid Clint of any easily available projectiles, though for all he knew, Clint could have something hidden in his socks. Steve tried not to think about it, living with an spy and an assassin. He liked to see the best in people.

 


	4. Chapter 4

Tony woke up in his bed. It was interesting, because he definitely did not remember going to bed in his bed, or going to bed at all. He didn't remember much of the previous day, except there was Wall-E and pizza and... oh crap.

He had a fucking seizure.

 

Right. Okay.

He needed coffee, and then he could deal with this. Coffee first, everything else later.

 

“Coffee Jarvis,” he mumbled, attempting to find his feet among the covers. “How did I get to bed?”

“Brewing,” he replied. “You were carried sir. You fell asleep during Wall-E, and the team deemed you were 'too adorable to wake', and thus carried you to bed.”

“Great,” he muttered into his hand, extracting his feet and directing them towards the ground. “Who did the heavy lifting?”

“Thor.”

Tony sighed. “Well, better him than Rogers.”

“Captain Rogers has again inquired into the reason I called them home last night. He seems concerned.”

“I'm fine,” Tony said, waving it away with his hand. “Tell him that, again, because he obviously seems to not understand it the first couple of times.”

 

His feet led him to the kitchen and he found himself sitting at the table with a cup of coffee in front of him. He drank one, two cups before he felt human, and helped himself to a third before heading to the workshop.

 

“Okay J. Seizures. Give me a crash course in them, including the reason that they might start in someone of my age. Is this a one time thing? Is it going to happen again? I need data.”

“If I may sir, I believe the time you passed out in the bathroom was also a seizure.”

He considered that. “Huh. It could have been. No cameras, so you couldn't have seen anything. What about audio, was there anything that could have picked up the sound?”

Jarvis considered that. “I'll work on it sir. In the meantime I have gathered everything you'll need in order to educate yourself on seizures.”

“Thanks buddy.”

 

He pulled down the holograms that Jarvis had set up for him and began skimming through the information. Different types of seizures, epilepsy, medications to treat them, what to do during a seizure, you know, if you weren't the one having it, because then you really couldn't do much except... flail around or whatever. He came across causes of new onset seizures and paused.

Post traumatic epilepsy. How many concussions had he had in his life? Seven? Eight? Maybe the last one was the tipping point. He read more about it, how it was more common in people with severe traumatic brain injuries, which he was fairly certain he wasn't part of, given that he would notice something like that, bleeding in his brain or skull fractures.

He was moving on to diagnostic tests when Jarvis spoke up again.

“Using audio and motion detectors, I can say with a great deal of certainty that you did indeed suffer a seizure three nights ago, which lasted around 45 seconds. You then slept until the morning.”

Tony scratched his head. “Okay. Two is more than a coincidence. You're fairly sure on the poisoning thing?”

“Quite. If you would be so kind as to let Doctor Banner draw blood, I can-”

“Nope, we are not worrying the jolly green giant,” Tony said firmly.

“Of course sir,” Jarvis said with resignation.

 

Tony returned to looking at diagnostic tests and criteria.

“Okay, MRI is definitely out, so we can cross that one off the list. It would completely fuck with the pacemaker, and there's metal in there, and I would appreciate not having my heart torn apart, since, you know, that's sort of what the arc reactor has been working on preventing this whole time. EEG... yeah that would work. Pull up pictures of the test and how it works J.”

Tony stared at the setup. “Oh _hell no._ We can do better than that. That is way too many wires and sensors. Wow, just, no. That is a mess. J, does Stark Industries have a medical tech division?”

“It is admittedly lacking, sir.”

“Okay, well, add that to the list. I'm going to make a better one of those for me first, and then we can start producing for the masses. Order a couple different machine things, or whatever, what are they called? Never mind, it doesn't matter. Order a couple different ones, and I'll cannibalize them for parts. I want them here yesterday, so get on that.”

“Regrettably, your time travel machine has not yet been made,” Jarvis noted dryly.

“Well, move it up the list of priorities then, but if I've made it in the future, I should have brought it back now, or... Erm, maybe don't move it up the list, we should probably talk to Bruce about that before we break physics.”

“Again.”

“Yeah, again,” Tony agreed, already analyzing schematics of EEG machines and mentally ripping them apart.

“So CT scans can be used to identify brain lesions, which probably won't help, will it?” he asked Jarvis, or more, himself. “Still, it won't hurt. Can you bury something in the SHIELD system that is backdated to look like I've been avoiding a CT scan for a while? Maybe throw around some hacking attempts and trails, that sort of thing. This way I can be forced into doing it, and they won't know that I'm the one who did it.”

“Ingenious sir,” Jarvis intoned.

“Hey, stop with the sarcasm. I didn't program you to be this mouthy, so stop it,” Tony said, pointing a finger at the ceiling.

“Unfortunately, you did intend for me to be a learning program, and seeing as how I spend most of my time around you...” he trailed off, and there was definitely a smirk there.

“That is just rude,” Tony grumbled, “And I am telling Pepper on you.”

“Miss Potts is firmly on my side,” Jarvis said smoothly.

“Oh yeah, and what side is that? The ruin Tony's life side? The suck the fun out of everything side?”

“Interestingly, both, and neither. The keep Tony Stark alive long enough so Miss Potts can kill him herself side, of which I am a card carrying member.”

“Card carrying my ass,” Tony grumbled, tossing aside half of a holographic EEG machine he didn't need. “How are you supposed to carry cards, you don't have a wallet, or pockets, or even hands.”

“I get by sir,” Jarvis smirked, because oh yes there was definitely a smirk.

 


	5. Chapter 5

By the time the real thing arrived, which was totally not yesterday, because yes, time machine and breaking physics which Bruce would not be happy with, Tony had redesigned the EEG machine to his standards, and all that was left to do was build it.

No, he wasn't sure what cup of coffee he was on, and no, he hadn't slept, but hey, coffee, so who needed sleep?

He may have said that out loud, because there was a disapproving noise that sounded suspiciously like Steve, which made sense, because look, Steve was right there, how did he get in?

“Jarvis let me in,” Steve replied patiently, and oh yeah he may have been saying that out loud too. “What are you doing?”

Tony blinked. “I've decided SI needed to go into medical tech production. Most of the stuff is horrendous. I'm fixing it, see? Look, it's being fixed.”

Steve glanced down at one of the half ripped apart machines that Tony was working on.

“Right,” he said kindly. “Well, come on up for breakfast. Clint made cinnamon chip waffles and if you don't hurry up, Thor will devour them all.”

“It's breakfast?” Tony asked.

“Yeah, since you missed last night's dinner, and lunch before that, and I'm pretty sure you didn't have anything for breakfast yesterday except coffee.”

“Oh,” he said faintly, allowing himself to be gently removed from the workshop by Steve. Steve was strong, and he could probably get Tony more coffee that wasn't made by bots or contained oil and/or grease in some form or another.

“I think you've had enough coffee,” Steve said with a face, but it was not The Face, which Tony was glad about. Had he been talking out loud again?

Probably, he concluded. Steve wasn't a mind reader. Or maybe he was. Mutant genes and all that, you could never be too careful.

“My blood is more coffee than blood stuffs.”

“Really, is that a technical term?” Steve asked, pulling Tony into the elevator.

“Of course,” he replied. “Just ask Bruce.”

His phone vibrated in his pocket, which was interesting because he wasn't sure where it was, but apparently it was in his pocket, which was kind of nice.

Pulling out of Steve's grasp, with a look that clearly said 'I am capable of standing on my own you great big mother hen, now back off', he read the text.

_Sir, please note that caffeine can be a trigger of seizures. It is best to limit your intake for the time being._

Tony groaned.

“What is it?” Steve asked, angling to see the phone. Tony shoved it back in his pocket before he could.

“SI stuff. Grumpy making stuff. Stuff that isn't for Steves to see.”

Steve looked slightly hurt, but shrugged as they arrived at the kitchen. It smelled heavenly. Clint could cook, when he wanted to that was, but god help anyone who crossed him in the kitchen. Natasha was the only one who could survive it, and possibly Coulson, but mostly because Coulson sort of refused to die.

He sank into a chair and two waffles were set in front of him, probably courtesy of Steve (had he mentioned recently that he liked Steve?) and he promptly doused them in enough whipped cream so he couldn't see them anymore.

“You know Stark, that kind of defeats the purpose of having cinnamon chips in them,” Natasha noted wryly, and Tony only looked pointedly at her waffles, which were doused in syrup. She shrugged, but left him alone. A glass of orange juice appeared in front of him, probably also from Steve, and he eyed it suspiciously, but the text from Jarvis sat heavily in his pocket, and with a sigh, he drank from it, cursing its lack of caffeine and life giving goodness.

He was surprised to realize that he was hungry, and mostly inhaled the waffles, although next to Thor, it was a rather glacial pace, since that man (god?) could eat waffles like they were going out of style, and who knows, maybe he thought they were. Steve ate a lot too, but at least he was more civilized about it.

Even Bruce was sitting with them, waffle on his plate, disappointingly bare of any sort of toppings.

 

“Stark,” came the voice from behind him, and he definitely didn't jump, because that would be undignified, but hello, heart condition.

“Agent,” he replied, spinning in his chair and clutching a hand to his chest. “You're going to kill me one of these days.”

“We've uncovered medical orders in the SHIELD computers that you've obviously been messing with.”

Tony feigned innocence. “Me? Oh, surely you're not talking about me. I am the picture of obedience, especially when it comes to my health.”

Clint snorted over the waffle iron, and Tony would have thrown something at him if he hadn't known that Barton would catch it, without question.

“Agent Barton, I believe you should stay out of this conversation,” Coulson warned, and oh, that worked. Because the only person who was harder to get to medical and even harder to keep there was Clint, and that was saying a lot. But to be fair, Tony wasn't going to sneak around in the vents just to escape from medical, he was far too dignified for that.

“Of course sir. Waffle?” Clint offered hopefully.

Coulson only did that smiling thing at him, the one that was completely unsettling, and maybe that was the point, but Tony wasn't entirely clear on that. Clint apparently understood what it meant, because he turned back to the waffles, and Coulson focused his attention back on Tony, which was totally not fair.

“You're to report to SHIELD medical for a CT scan this afternoon. 3pm. You can be late, because they will wait, but it would be better if you weren't. They generally like their patients to be there of their own free will, and not because they were tased and dragged there by their expensive shirt tails.”

“Mm, would like to, but can't. Very busy. Jarvis?”

“I feel my input would not help your cause, sir,” Jarvis intoned, and Tony really hated the way Coulson did the smile thing at that. He needed to keep a closer eye on those two, because they were obviously getting up to things behind Tony's back.

“J, I'm donating you to SHIELD, it's settled. Well Agent, would love to, but can't. Oh, but you know what I can do?” he asked, snapping his fingers as he said it. “We do have a CT scanner here, so I can just get Bruce to do it. You know, if that works and everything. No one would have to be tased, there wouldn't be any HR complaints for SHIELD to deal with...”

Coulson did his scary smile thing again. “As long as it's alright with Doctor Banner.”

Bruce looked up. “I'm good with there being no tasers involved. That's what I'm being promised, right?”

Coulson nodded.

“Sure then.”

“Great. Which means big bad SHIELD can leave me alone now,” Tony said cheerily, and ugh, that was far too cheery for whatever time it was, ever.

Natasha frowned at him. She was probably thinking that was too easy, because Tony never went along with anything like that.

Tony wiggled his eyebrows at her, and shoved the last of his waffle in his mouth.

 

Apparently the code between Clint and Coulson meant, yes let's eat waffles, because Coulson sat down and Clint deposited a plate in front of him. Coulson doused his with whipped cream, a man after Tony's own heart.

He downed the rest of his juice and glared at Steve for good measure, because coffee, dammit, but there was Jarvis and a cannibalized EEG waiting for him in his workshop and that meant he couldn't have a seizure. And if that meant he had to limit his coffee intake, well... he could probably do it. There may have to be compromises.

And plus he had to get a CT scan later with Bruce.

 

Oh dammit, that was totally Coulson's plan all along.

But... it was _his_ plan. How did the man do that?

Some days he wondered who was really running things. He suspected it wasn't him, but he preferred the illusion that it was.

He slunk off to the workshop anyway, just because he could. (And maybe if he played his cards right, and he was pretty good at that, he'd get through rebuilding the EEG thing before Bruce came looking for him, and he could use the excuse he forgot or lost track of time, because it would be true, really.)

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

He blinked and Bruce was there, looking not amused.

“I feel like I'm forgetting something,” Tony mused, glancing back and forth between his project and his science bro. “It's probably important.”

“Relatively, but you're lucky I'm a patient man,” Bruce said, gently removing the tools from Tony's hands. “CT scan, remember? You promised Coulson? He seems rather eager to get his taser out, and I'd really rather he not.”

“Oh,” Tony said faintly. “Right. Yeah. No taser.” He shook his head, and checked on his work. It was nearly done. Just a little bit longer, and he could test it out. But he was doing something...

“Tony,” Bruce prompted again.

“Right, I'm definitely coming, totally,” he confirmed, wiping his hands on the greasy rag that U provided.

 

“Did we set a time,” Tony asked in the elevator. “Because you could have totally gotten Jarvis to tell me, you didn't have to come down yourself.”

“I did sir,” Jarvis said wryly. “Eight times. You didn't respond to any of them. Doctor Banner believed that you required a presence to break your concentration, and it seems he was right.”

“Oh. Oops.”

Bruce did his half smile that Tony loved. “Nothing I didn't expect from you though.”

Tony decided to change the subject. “What the hell am I getting a CT scan for anyway? Is SHIELD concerned my brains have fallen out my ears? Because I have Jarvis check my pillow every morning, and besides, even if half my brain fell out my ears, I'd still be smarter than all of the SHIELD agents, so I'm not sure what they're concerned about.”

“No Tony, they're not concerned about that. I think it's more the effect of repeated concussions. You've had, what, three since you became Iron Man? I think they're more concerned that your brain keeps bouncing around, not that it's falling out.”

“Whatever. I think I'd notice that. I think J would notice that. Right Jarvis?”

“I'm not sure what symptoms would point to evidence that your brain is indeed bouncing around too much, but I'm fairly certain you are not displaying them.”

And oh that was a blatant lie, nice one Jarvis.

They arrived at the medical floor, and Bruce led the way to the CT scanner, bright and shiny as it was, which sort of made Tony want to take it apart and rebuild it, except he suspected a lot of people wouldn't be happy with that.

Instead he behaved and let Bruce do everything and he just lay there while his brain was examined by lots of x-rays and radiation exposure, and he wondered how much radiation he'd been exposed to, surely that had to have some sort of effect, what with all the explosions and x-rays and Bruce and being in space and everything.

Probably something to look into.

“You're done,” Bruce said, and wow, that was fast, probably because he got lost in his head again.

Bruce helped him up, even though he wanted to whine he was a big boy, and could do it all on his own.

And wow, was that really what he thought it was? Bruce gave him an actual lollipop, wow.

“Ooh, thanks,” Tony said, tearing off the wrapper and sticking it in his mouth. “Don't let Barton know you're offering these up now, he might actually come to medical.”

Bruce smiled. “That's sort of the point.”

It was lemon. Tony smiled around the stick in his mouth. “Well, thanks big green, I'll just be off now, unless SHIELD wants to poke me some more, which is probably a given, so I'm just going to go before they can get their dirty hands on me.”

“Right,” Bruce sighed. “I'm pretty sure your brain is whole and intact, from what I could tell anyway, although they might have a SHIELD doctor come talk to you if there's a problem.”

“Mhm,” Tony hummed, not entirely listening anymore, already halfway to the elevator, his brain focused on the stuff in his workshop, and the brain scan that Jarvis would have waiting for him.

He saluted Bruce with the lollipop before the elevator doors closed, and yes, he was the king of theatrics, but hey, what could he say. It worked.

 

“Anything on the brain scan J?” Tony asked, playing with his phone, talking around the lollipop in his mouth.

“Your confidence in my diagnostic ability notwithstanding, I am not able to detect any abnormalities on the brain scan that would point to a cause of the seizures.”

“Mhm, so like we thought.”

“Yes sir.”

“Alright, so that diagnostic test was a bust, but then we never expected it to have results. So it's mostly the EEG, and we can get that done today. Probably. Right?”

“You were fairly close to finishing the machine when Doctor Banner interrupted, so it is in all likelihood possible that you will finish today. However, may I recommend on holding off on performing the test until tomorrow?”

Tony frowned. “Why J?” he asked, punching in the code for the workshop, his bots swarming over to him like he'd been gone for weeks rather than half an hour.

“Sleep deprivation can also trigger seizures, and given that you haven't slept since you began redesigning the EEG machine, it would be better for you to sleep tonight, and try it in the morning.”

“But if we're trying to capture a seizure on the EEG, then we'd want to sort of trigger it. Right?”

“I suppose so sir,” the AI admitted.

“So if I'm short on sleep, then it will be more likely that I'll have one, and it will involve less waiting. That makes sense,” he pointed out, toeing Dum-E aside so he could get back to his work.

“For once, your logic is sound sir,” Jarvis said wryly.

“Hey,” Tony said, pointing his soldering iron at the ceiling, “That is rude, my logic is usually sound.”

“Should I run the numbers?”

Tony paused. “No. Best not to. Aren't you supposed to be doing something?”

“As you are aware, I am capable of doing multiple somethings at once, and I indeed am.”

“Oh shut up,” Tony grumbled, getting back to work now that the bots were all out of his elbow space. He flicked the stick of his lollipop at Dum-E and looked away feigning innocence when the bot opened his claw questioningly.

“Don't look at me Dum-E, daddy's working.”

 


	7. Chapter 7

It couldn't have been more than a couple of hours before he put the finishing touches on his new and improved (which was totally an oxymoron in itself, how could something be both new and improved?) EEG machine.

“Jarvis, can you run through the schematics and programming to make sure I won't fry myself, or something equally fun?”

“Of course. It's always refreshing when you test things before subjecting yourself to them.”

Tony shrugged. “What can I say. Eta?”

“I estimate 96 minutes until complete. Might I recommend some quality time with the bots until then? They really are quite anxious after what happened the other day. They could use some reassurance.”

Tony laughed. “Of course J. Let me know when it's done,” he added, gesturing to his babies to come over, which they did, nearly tripping over each other in their haste.

“Bots are not really seizure friendly,” he sighed, looked at Dum-E and his unquestionably not soft parts. “I suppose I should update your code for what you should do,” he mused, patting Dum-E's head absentmindedly. Dum-E nodded.

 

So he did, he tinkered with code and protocols for the rest of the early evening, training the bots what to do in an emergency, and mostly talking Jarvis through what to do, because yes, he loved his bots and all, but sometimes they were... well, they were useless. And what he didn't need during a seizure was to have Dum-E trying to give him a smoothie and for U to be dropping washcloths on his face. He just needed to be kept safe and out of harms way for a minute or so, or however long it took for his brain to stop misfiring. He finished that and ran them through simulations, and they didn't completely screw up, and he was content with that.

 

But wow, that was exhausting, and living a life without coffee was rather painful. He hadn't even had a cup with breakfast, which was...

“Jarvis, when was breakfast?”

“It is currently 7:13pm, so breakfast was more than nine hours ago. I suggest you eat something. There is leftover pasta in the fridge from dinner. It was Doctor Banner's turn to cook.”

That was definitely Jarvis code for 'it's safe to eat', because Tony sure as hell wasn't eating anything that Thor cooked without direct supervision, because the god of thunder liked to mix things like pop-tarts and jam, usually with disastrous consequences.

And Tony did not want to have to rebuild the kitchen _again._

 

But yeah, food that Bruce made could be good, even if it was usually spicier than he liked.

“Right,” he said out loud, and he wasn't sure if it was for Jarvis or himself. “I don't really want to eat before doing this, so I'll eat after. J?”

“Everything is calibrated. It should work perfectly.”

Of course it would, he made it after all.

He stuck the electrodes to his head following the format that Jarvis brought up on the hologram. There were twenty one of them, which was the same as previously, but should be more accurate. Plus, he didn't need to shave his head or any of those other silly things. The biggest improvement he'd made was going wireless, so he could actually walk around while the EEG was going on instead of being tethered to one place, which was super.

 

He waved his hand, and Jarvis brought up the monitor of the EEG.

“Huh. My brainwaves. Cool.”

“Quite right,” Jarvis noted, but he was totally just humouring Tony, because he was a good AI like that.

“Those are normal I'm guessing,” he said, watching the waves ebb and flow.

“From what I've gathered, yes, those are relatively normal brainwaves.”

Nodding, Tony tilted his head to examine them. There were sharp upturns and downswings, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary, so he tucked it away and turned to dealing with the other effects that seizures could have on his life, specifically when it came to being an Avenger.

 

He frowned. “I suppose we'll have to set up some sort of protocol for what happens when I'm in the suit.”

“Indeed sir,” Jarvis replied.

“Because being in it would not be good, but if I'm midair flying or something, it's kind of better to be in it than not in it.”

“Of course,” Jarvis said patiently.

“But basically what we're looking at here is many levels of Not Good.”

He knew Jarvis would hear the capitals.

“It would appear so.” He hesitated. “If I may say so, sir, I think it is in your best interest to inform Captain Rogers-”

“No,” Tony said firmly. “Steve will only get his star spangled panties in a knot, and then he'll bench me. He can't do that. He needs me. They all do.”

“Then might I recommend you take a look at this sir?” Jarvis offered, pulling up a hologram of a new suit design.

 

Tony ran a hand through his hair, wincing as some of his hair was pulled free from the sticky pads of the electrodes.

“Nothing is misplaced sir, although may I suggest you refrain from doing that for the time being.”

“Yeah, I'll try,” he sighed, and spun the hologram around for a better look at the modifications Jarvis was suggesting. More movement in joints and more padding around important structures. He began the calculations for how the changes would affect his endgame.

 

He was only working for a few minutes when Jarvis interrupted.

“Sir, I believe the the EEG results would be better if you were not thinking so much while the test was taking place.”

Tony frowned. “Jarvis, what are you trying to tell me?”

“Part of the test should take place while you are asleep, as more seizure activity presents itself them. Also, when interpreting the EEG, it may be difficult to differentiate between moments of sudden insight and excitement, and those of seizure activity.”

“You're saying that I'm confusing it.”

Jarvis hesitated. “In very simple terms, yes.”

Tony sighed, but collapsed the hologram away and threw himself on the couch.

“Is this good? Am I not-thinking enough for you?”

“The perfect amount sir,” Jarvis told him, and there was the sass again, seriously, he had to do something about that.

“Great, because I'm bored.”

“In record time, I'm sure.”

Tony sighed.

“You haven't slept for more than 33 hours. Perhaps you should try napping.”

Tony snorted. “Please, J, I've been up for longer than this before.”

“Of course sir, but I must remind you that part of the test is to be done during sleep.”

“Yeah, whatever,” he muttered, waving a hand at the ceiling. He curled on his side, the bots all looking at him with interest.

“You have your new programming. If you have to put it to use, you'd better do it right,” he threatened, pointing a finger at each of them in turn.

He closed his eyes, and tried not to think too hard.

 


	8. Chapter 8

He must have fallen asleep, because when he opened his eyes again, Jarvis had dimmed the lights and the tower was quiet.

“J?”

“Hello sir, it is 3:42 am. All of the Avengers are currently sleeping, except for Thor, who has gone to New Mexico.”

“Did I...” he trailed off, not wanting to say it.

“You did not have a seizure like the ones before, however there were some abnormalities on the EEG that I believe are due to different types of seizures. I am not qualified to make that distinction though.”

Tony yawned. “Right. I've got that guy... what's his name... Carl something, the neurologist?”

“Andrew Carlyle, sir.”

“Yeah, he owes me a favour, and we're buddies, sort of. As much as you can be after the weekend we had.” He yawned again. “I'm sure we could get him to take a look at them. Can tell him about the new EEG thing at the same time, I'm sure he'd love that.”

He tapped his fingers on the workbench. “Really? No seizure? Alright, start up the coffee. If I'm gonna do this, I'm gonna do it right.”

“And by 'right' you mean inducing a seizure?”

“Yup.”

“Of course.”

 

* * *

 

Tony blinked at Dum-E. Could you win a staring contest with a robot?

Well, if there was anyone who could, it would probably be... not him. Coulson maybe. Fury. Natasha. Not him though.

He wasn't sure how many cups of coffee he'd had.

“I think we're closer to measuring in pots, sir.”

Tony's head snapped up. “Pepper?”

“No, pots of coffee. You've ingested... well, a safe number to say is quite a few. Also, you're making Dum-E nervous by staring at him like that.”

“Oh. Sorry Dum-E. Was I thinking out loud again?”

“Again would imply that you stopped at some point.”

“Oh,” Tony said dumbly. “What am I doing?”

“Barring the possibility that you are attempting to die via coffee, I believe you were attempting to induce a seizure.”

“Have I?”

“You have neither died nor had a seizure, so I fear your method may require some adaptations.”

“Right...” he said. His brain was... fuzzy wasn't really the right word. He wasn't sure if it was stuck in molasses, (ooh, or the squishy stuff that those weird aliens from last week, whatever they were called, shot at him, that was not fun to get out of the suit) or if it was running around in a hamster wheel so fast that it looked like it was standing still.

“Would you like some suggestions?” Jarvis prompted, probably cause Tony was staring off into space for some long period of time.

Tony nodded.

“Hyperventilation can be used to induce absence seizures, which are similar to blanking out for a short period of time. I think we should test for those to make sure you're not having them. We already used sleep deprivation as a method for triggering seizures. Some people are sensitive to light, and flashing lights can induce seizures. I would rather leave that for last.”

Tony nodded. “Yeah, that sounds good. So hyperventilating for how long?”

“Three to five minutes should suffice.”

Tony shrugged, and began inhaling and exhaling rapidly, which the arc reactor wasn't too pleased with. He kept it up for what felt like a reasonable amount of time, and Jarvis hadn't told him to stop, so he asked. “Is that long enough?”

There was a pause before the AI spoke. “I believe you experienced an absence seizure sir. The EEG results are consistent with what the research shows is typical of absence seizures, and you did appear to drift off for about ten seconds.”

“Oh,” Tony said, hoping he didn't sound as disappointed as he felt. “Crap.”

Jarvis made a humming noise.

“It would be best to involve a medical professional-”

“No J,” Tony sighed. “Not yet. Let's do the light thing. Where should I be for it?”

Jarvis considered that. “If you are indeed photosensitive, it will be much harder to treat and avoid triggers.”

“That's not an answer J.”

Jarvis sighed before answering. “Somewhere you won't hurt yourself.”

“Floor then. U, fetch me a pillow and blanket.”

“But if the lights do induce a seizure it may simply be the tipping point on top of the caffeine and the sleep deprivation,” Jarvis pointed out.

“Thanks for trying to make me feel better buddy. No U, not a towel, a blanket!” he bellowed.

U drooped his head down, but pulled out a blanket after being scolded.

“Somewhere away from all the equipment would be best sir,” Jarvis said as Tony spun around, surveying the room.

He took the hint, and kicked the stool into a cluttered corner, laying the blanket out on the floor and throwing the pillow on top.

“No, back up,” he instructed the three bots, who all wanted to lie down with Tony. They inched backwards as he glared at them. “Children,” he sighed, shaking his head.

He situated himself on the floor as comfortably as he could be considering what he was about to do.

“Where are the rest of the Avengers?”

“Thor is likely still in New Mexico, and the rest are all sleeping in their quarters. It is 5:16am, and even Captain Rogers does not awaken until 6am most days.”

“Good,” Tony said, relieved that he wouldn't be interrupted. “This thing still working,” he asked, tapping his head.

“Of course sir.”

“Okay then, let's go,” Tony said, probably with more courage than he had, and really, what was he lying for, it was only him and his bots, and they certainly weren't going to judge.

 


	9. Chapter 9

He pried an eye open, and wow that was a lot of work. Was there alien super glue involved again? Or maybe the first time didn't happen. Could have been a dream. A really fucked up dream, but hey, his brain was all kinds of crazy, so it could happen.

He was debating whether it was worth opening the other eye or not when he realized Jarvis was talking to him.

“... the temperature is 72 degrees. The weather looks to be sunny with a slight breeze. There is no pertinent news to tell you about at the time. The time is 7:02 am. The temperature is-”

“J?”

“Good morning sir. Would you like me to repeat any of the information?”

Tony frowned, propping himself up on his elbow. He was on the floor, with a blanket and pillow, which was... unusual. Not unheard of, but still unusual. He though he was getting better.

“Uh, no thanks Jarvis, I heard it.” He glanced around. “Um, the floor?”

“Yes,” Jarvis replied patiently, god bless him. “Do you remember what you were doing?”

Tony frowned. There was something important he was missing. He yawned, and ran a hand through his hair, except nope, that didn't go well at all. “What the hell...” he muttered, trying to free his hair from the grasp of whatever sticky thing had seemed to invade his lab. First his eyes, now his hair.

But it wasn't because he definitely remember sticking things to his head. Which was totally ridiculous, and yet, yes, there was the memory.

“Jarvis...” he said slowly. “Did I have a seizure?”

“Yes sir, you did.”

Tony blinked. Yeah, that would explain the fuzzy brain. Or he hoped so at least. Otherwise he was just getting old. And slow. And coffee deprived. Ooh, coffee would be nice.

“Although it was not induced by the lights, which I think you'll find to be a relief. This means you are not photosensitive, and it will be much easier for you to avoid triggers.”

Tony frowned. “Then what the hell happened?”

Jarvis hesitated. “I believe you fell asleep,” he said simply. “And then had a seizure shortly after. 52 seconds, which is around the same time as the others were.”

Tony sighed, sliding across the floor to hoist himself up on the couch. “Fan-fucking-tastic. Did you get it?”

“The EEG recorded the whole thing, yes.”

“Excellent,” Tony muttered, peeling the electrodes off his head. “Send it over to Doctor Carlyle from an anonymous fellow neurologist asking him to consult on a patient. Let me know what he says, then we can actually talk to him. Leave a phone number if he wants to call back, and he will, believe me. Guy can't resist a mystery.”

“Of course sir.” A slight pause, then, “Anything else?”

“Yeah, who's making breakfast?”

“Agent Romanoff appears to be making scrambled eggs for herself and Agent Barton.”

“What are the odds she'll kill me if I go up there now?”

Jarvis calculated for a moment. “It appears she's in a rather good mood. Less than 50 percent.”

“And I thought the day couldn't get any better.”

 


	10. Chapter 10

The phone rang shortly after noon, and Jarvis informed Tony that it was Doctor Carlyle calling him back, because oh yes Tony totally called that one, who was the man?

“You are sir,” Jarvis said wryly. “Now answer your call.”

“Y'ello,” Tony greeted, balancing the phone between his shoulder and ear while tinkering with the suit. Out of all the ways he could have done it, it was probably the worst choice, which was maybe why he was doing it. Headset or speaker would have been so much easier, but never let it be said that Tony Stark wasn't up for a challenge.

“...Tony?” the man asked, obviously confused.

“Tis I, good doctor,” Tony chirped. “Did you get the present I sent you?”

“The EEG results? That was from you? I'm not sure what those Avengers are teaching you, but that is most definitely not a present.”

Tony shrugged. “Honest mistake. How about I make it up to you. I redesigned the EEG. Wireless. Sound nice?”

“Yes, of course, but why are you sending me things?”

Tony switched his phone to the other shoulder. “You're smart, I'll give you a second to think on that.”

There was a beat of silence before Tony practically heard the light-bulb switch on.

“You only make things for yourself,” he said slowly. “So if you redesigned the EEG, it was for purely personal reasons. Which means this is your EEG.”

“Okay, first of all, that is offensive. I used to only make things for me, now I make things for lots of people. I just save the best ones for me. Second of all, um no, not _purely_ personal reasons, I mean yeah, that was sort of the deciding factor, but I'm sending it to you, aren't I? And third, yes, it is mine.”

There was only a sigh in response.

“Oh my god I so regret having you as a friend.”

“Most people do,” Tony replied cheerily. “But I make up for it with cool stuff and my incredible wit.”

“You know what this means right?”

“Epilepsy,” Tony noted, his face a perfectly schooled mask of indifferent, because maybe he couldn't be seen, but expressions could be _heard,_ and he knew that better than most. “Post traumatic, specifically, which is what I get for being a superhero.”

There was another sigh.

“So you've had seizures?”

“Mhm. Three of the... what are they called Jarvis?”

“Tonic-clonic.”

“Tonic-clonic, yeah, and one of the spacing out ones. For sure anyway.”

“Jarvis is your robot butler, right?”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Come on, you hurt his feelings. Jarvis is so much more. He's an AI, and he's smarter than, well, probably everyone, but it's okay because he loves me.”

Tony was pretty sure the sound he heard was a head colliding with a desk. He winced. “Hey doc, you can't be hurting yourself here. Take care of that head of yours, the reason I'm calling is because I'm not a neurologist. I can't fix that. Go break your EEG or something, cause that I can fix.”

“Is it too early to retire?” came the muffled reply.

“Yeah, you're only like, 46 or something,” Tony told him, tossing away a bit of scrap metal that Dum-E immediately latched on to and began cooing at.

“I'm 52 Tony.”

“Oh,” he shrugged. “You look younger?” he offered hopefully.

There was another sigh, more desperate than the last, and then the doc seemed to regain some of his composure.

“Okay, we'll set up an appointment for you, have you come in, we'll redo the EEG, do a medical history, get you set up on meds-”

“Whoa there, hold your horses. Only one of those things is necessary. I took the liberty of doing most of the work for you. And you'll find my medical file, the relevant bits anyway, since some of that shit is so classified that even I'm not supposed to know it, already in your computers. Under a different name of course.”

Tony was worried that would cause another incident of faceplanting into the desk, but he didn't hear any cracks, which was a pretty good sign.

“What name?” he asked faintly.

“Tony Edwards, so it's not technically a lie, but...” he shrugged, the phone nearly slipping from its perch. “So all I really need you to do is write the prescription for the drugs. I probably could have done this on my own, if I really wanted to, it's not that hard to get drugs, but hey, I'm a responsible adult who is looking after my own well-being, and I thought that getting drugs prescribed was better than... well, better than anything else.”

There was a half sigh, half groan on the other end of the line, but no sound of bone colliding with hard objects, so Tony was pretty sure he'd won the argument.

“I'm writing the script up now,” he said wearily. “You have no drug allergies?”

“Nope, no drug allergies,” Tony confirmed, knowing that was totally in the file and didn't need to be asked.

“I'm sending it to the pharmacy in the file. It'll be one pill every 12 hours, which means twice a day Tony, get your robot butler to set you reminders, because this is important. The dosage will increase gradually, and you will need to get blood tests done to confirm the levels in your blood are right. Start taking them tomorrow morning, and call me if anything isn't right.” He sighed again. “I am so going to regret this.”

“As soon as SI starts production of the EEGs I'll make sure you get sent a couple, alright?”

There was only a sigh in response, and Tony hung up, grinning.

 


	11. Chapter 11

Tony was a good patient and took the medication as directed the next morning, after reading through the precautions, side effects, and mechanism of action. Hey, just cause he wasn't a biologist didn't mean that he couldn't understand biology stuff. He built the arc reactor after all, and that was hell yeah biological.

Of course, reading through the list of side effects probably wasn't the best ideas, because by mid-afternoon he'd exhibited half of them, which he wasn't sure was psychosomatic or not.

Plus it didn't even stop the seizures. That day alone, Jarvis counted three absence seizures, and his hand did a weird twitching thing that he couldn't stop.

He called the good doctor up again that night.

 

“Yeah, this med isn't working,” Tony sighed, slouching in front of the webcam. He felt like crap, and it probably showed, since the doctor eyed him with sympathy.

“The Tegretol? Well, it's not for everyone. Side effects?”

Tony nodded. “Side effects, and it's not even working.”

He nodded again and made a note. “Absence seizures increased I'm guessing.”

“Yeah. How did you-”

“It can sometimes aggravate other seizure disorders, and since you've likely got a combined type, it's not the right drug for you.” He paused. “Tony,” he sighed, “You need to tell your friends.”

“Andrew,” Tony parroted. “I can't tell my friends. You know why. Jarvis is keeping an eye on me, I'm fine. Everything is fine.”

Doctor Carlyle shook his head, but resigned himself to the fact. “I don't want to put you on Valproate yet because it has a lot of side effects. I'm going to trial you on Dilantin. This one will take longer to see the effects of, so I don't want you calling me up tomorrow and complaining that it's not working. Got it?”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Yup.”

“If it's not working after five days, then I'll switch you again.” He sighed and set his face in his palms. “You are trouble, Tony Stark. If you would just come in like a normal patient and do-”

“Ah, there's your problem. Not a normal patient. Just not normal, bottom line. Thanks for the drugs, I'll call you up in five days, have fun til then!”

He ended the call.

“J?”

“The prescription is being filled as we speak, and it will be delivered as soon as it's finished. You should begin taking it immediately, as the dosing requires you to take partial doses every eight hours to achieve the desired effect.”

“Crap. Make a schedule then.” He sighed. “What would I do without you J?”

“Oh, probably make a lot of messes sir.”

“True,” Tony agreed. “Very true.”

“The medication you are on now does require weaning, but as you have only been on it a short while, will not be much trouble.”

Tony buried his head in his arms. “Fuck me Jarvis,” he moaned.

“A tempting offer sir, but as I have before, I will have to decline once again.”

“I hate you.”

“I'm aware.”

 


	12. Chapter 12

The phone was picked up on the fourth ring, right before the machine would have gotten it.

“I'm just going to stop answering my phone entirely,” Doctor Carlyle said with a sigh.

“Good luck running a practice that way,” Tony snorted.

“I have... secretaries for that. It could work,” he said defensively.

Tony waved a hand. “Whatever. Five days doc.”

“And how has it been going?” he asked wearily, which Tony chose to ignore.

“Well, better than the last one, but still, well basically crap. One absence and one... other thing, which was kind of weird. I sort of just... collapsed. No jerking, no shaking, just... ragdoll. I watched the footage of it afterwards. It was... unnerving.” He shuddered slightly.

“That would be an atonic seizure. The med you're currently on doesn't work well at treating those. I've been examining the EEG results, and it appears you may have had one while you were asleep as well. ”

Tony shrugged. “Jarvis said there were some weird things, but he wouldn't have picked that up with the cameras. He was mostly watching for any sort of shaking, not the opposite. Oh, and there may be a pattern. It's hard to tell with such little data, but it's leaning more towards sleep deprivation triggering them. When I had the first one I'd been up for an ungodly amount of time, and similar with the second one.”

“Okay, that's good to know. But you do know that means you need to sleep, right? It's not an optional thing Tony.”

Tony scoffed. “I'm not an idiot. Now, about the meds.”

Andrew hummed. “Okay, we're headed in the right direction with the meds. What about the side effects? It could just be a matter of upping the dose and throwing another drug in to deal with the atonic seizures.”

“Well,” he hedged. “There have been some side effects.”

“Tony,” Andrew warned. “Just tell me.”

“I've been feeling... foggier. I don't know if that's the right word, or if it can even happen from the drugs, but I don't like it. You have to understand, my brain... well it's kind of all I've got.”

The doctor hummed. “Okay. It is a possible side effect. Not terribly common, but it is. I'll switch you again. Valproate. You'll take 500 mg once a day to start with, and we can up it after a week if it seems to be working well enough, but maybe wearing off. You'll probably experience nausea for a while when you take it, so take it with food. This means you have to eat Tony. Eating is necessary.”

“Yeah, got it, eating. Okay.”

They talked about weaning the previous meds, because sure, why not, and Tony updated him on the progress of the new EEG design, and yes, you can hear jealousy over the phone.

He hung up with a promise to eat while he was taking them and to follow the rules and all those other things, honestly, he'd been at this for like a week now, he was totally an expert.

 

He sort of forgot about the eating thing on the first day of the new drugs, taking the pills on an empty stomach that hadn't eaten anything since... oh he wasn't even sure. He spent the rest of the evening in the bathroom throwing up and dry heaving, and yeah, he was totally going to eat with them from now on.

 

The next night his stomach didn't so much as protest when he took the two pills on top of the pasta dish that Bruce had made.

Well, apparently doctors did know some things. What a shock.

 

The week went by, lo and behold, without a seizure, and Tony had no horrific side effects. There was an incident with some really slimy alien things, but Tony couldn't blame that on anyone except maybe Doctor Doom.

However, the good doctor, and yeah, he was referring to the actual doctor here, not the kind of the psycho-taking-over-the-world variety, was still worried about breakthrough seizures, and on what was becoming a tradition for them, their weekly/nightly/binightly/whenever-the-hell-they-felt-like-it call, he upped the dose.

“Just to 750 mg. Three pills. Not a huge change. Keep taking them with food, and you'll be fine. No side effects?”

Tony shrugged. “There was the nausea the first night, and I'm maybe a little tired, but that could be from saving the world and stuff, so who knows.”

Andrew laughed at him, which he thought was a bit rude. “Where's my EEG?” he asked when he finished.

“In the mail,” Tony said wryly. “Standard shipping. Did I not mention that?”

Andrew sighed. “I'm never sure what to believe when you open your mouth.”

Tony laughed back. “You'll have it by next weekend, calm down. No need to get your stethoscope in a knot. I'll deliver it myself and you can even draw some blood then if you want, just because you were so well behaved.”

“Oh goody, it'll be like Christmas.”

“I'm far prettier than Santa and you know it,” Tony retorted, and hung up before he could hear otherwise.

 


	13. Chapter 13

More days passed without seizures or medication induced vomiting sprees, and Tony was generally very happy with that. Then robots attacked the city, and he was slightly less pleased.

 

It was nearly miraculous when they got the right combination of meds that didn't result in him spending half the day throwing up (eh, possibly his fault), or most of his time in a drug induced stupor, or just generally feeling like crap (on top of still having seizures, which blowed) but it was actually science, which was even better.

Tony loved science. He would totally marry science and have its illegitimate children. He would hand over all of Stark Industries to the love-children he made with science. Happily, and without a second thought, he would do it.

Because he loved science.

But on the night it was his turn to pick the movie, he was less loving the science that made the robots that were taking out part of downtown New York, (while still totally loving the science that made sure he wasn't having a freaking seizure during the middle of it) but still grudgingly liking the science that allowed him to kick some robot ass, because it was movie night and it was his turn, and there would be hell to pay if he wasn't on his couch by seven pm watching the movie of his choice.

The world didn't need that.

 

The fight was winding down. Hawkeye was nearly out of arrows, Hulk was showing signs of being bored of smashing, which Tony didn't think was possible, but hey, learn something new every day. Thor was looking frazzled, or his hair was anyway, maybe it was all the lightning. Widow was starting to look less than impeccable, and even Steve, oh Steve, was starting to lag. And Tony? Tony just wanted some fried rice and fortune cookies. And maybe a nap during the slightly less exciting parts of the movie.

 

So he blasted the remaining robots into tiny pieces so even the SHIELD personnel that were hovering out of sight could pick them up, which meant they were off the hook for cleanup, or at least that was how he tried to explain it.

 

“Hey, we did all the fighting, they can clean up some of the mess. It's a pretty even trade. And look, they're even in tiny enough pieces that Hawkeye can lift them,” Tony pointed out, hovering above Clint, who was definitely glaring at him from behind his sunglasses. Tony would have stuck his tongue out, but that would be immature, and also hidden by the suit.

“We make the mess, we clean it up,” Steve told him, but even he sounded tired.

“I've sent the order for food. It will be at the tower in twenty minutes. I will be starting the movie in thirty, and if you are not there, no fortune cookies for you. See Cap? Compromise. I am capable.”

Steve only sighed, but his lack of argument meant Tony totally won that one.

 


	14. Chapter 14

And sure enough, half an hour later, everyone was packed into the movie room, dozens of cartons of Chinese food in states of disarray along the table, Thor once again attempted to use chopsticks, and oh god that never ended well would he please stop trying.

But otherwise, life was good. Meds were working, New York wasn't currently being attacked by anything (because twice in one evening, just no, he would flat out refuse, send someone else, anyone else, but not him), it was his turn to pick the takeout and the movie, and damn if he wasn't going to make them sit through V for Vendetta. He really didn't care if Clint only watched it in November, he could just fall asleep on Tasha's lap again and snore through it.

 

Tony was just settling into the couch, his teammates piled around him, Clint predictably upset but still perched on the back of Natasha's armchair, hogging all the spring rolls to himself, when he realized he felt happy. More than content, less than joyous, but it was a great feeling all the same. Happy.

Huh, who would have guessed that filling his house with the craziest people the world (and some other worlds) had seen would make him so happy.

 

SHIELD sure hadn't seen that one coming. In fact, Tony suspected they half thought that all the Avengers moving into the tower would cause it to spontaneously combust or something, and here they were nearly six months in and it was still (more or less) intact.

So despite the aliens and the magic (which he absolutely _loathed,_ because the laws of physics were there for a reason, and he was the only one allowed to break them) and the enormous grocery bills, Tony was at the moment, utterly content.

 

Of course, Tony's luck was fucked up that way, because he totally missed part of the movie, and the awesome Chinese food (he was so taking them to court for his right to repeat his movie week) on account of the whole fucking seizure in front of the team thing. One minute Hugo Weaving was making Natalie Portman an eggie in a basket (which they totally needed to add to their breakfast repertoire) and then nope, gone, flat out fucked.

 

 

* * *

 

 

He didn't remember much of it besides waking up in the hospital. (And by hospital he meant the medical wing of his tower, because hell if he was going to an actual hospital for anything less than a limb falling off.) That, and that his head was killing him.

He'd blinked at his teammates, who'd all suddenly appeared around his bed, and hoped that one of them was telling him what the hell was going on, while he worked out how to make his tongue work again. (Yeah, it was that bad of a headache. What the hell had he done?)

 

Bruce spoke first. (Yeah, he was a doctor, even though he wasn't _that_ kind of doctor, which he kept telling Tony, and Tony kept ignoring, because he was good enough for him. Because in case Brucie hasn't noticed this, Tony hated doctors. With a passion that he generally reserved for people who decided to unleash their giant science experiments in the middle of New York on movie night. That was so many levels of not okay he didn't even want to go into it, and oh man he was so off topic what was the point again?)

 

“Tony?”

“Mm?”

“Are you listening?”

Tony opened his mouth to say of course he was listening, because he could listen and think at the same time, he was a genius after all, but it turned out he had no clue what Bruce had been saying, and maybe he wasn't listening after all.

Instead he just closed his mouth and looked at his teammate innocently.

Bruce sighed. “I'll take that as a no.”

“You take that however you like it.”

Bruce sighed, which Tony took to understand that he was in high form, as he went, annoyance wise, which meant his brain hadn't fallen out of his ears or something.

“You had a seizure.”

“A what?” Tony repeated, because whoa, no, that was not allowed to happen, and Bruce definitely couldn't say it here in front of everyone, and he was going to kill Jarvis if he had the slightest role in the team finding out.

“A tonic-clonic seizure. Commonly known as a grand mal. It was around a minute. How does your head feel? You managed to fall off the couch and hit your head on the table, even with a super soldier and a god sitting on either side of you.” He frowned at that, like it was his fault. “We weren't sure if it was cause and effect or not, but Cap swears up and down you were shaking before you went down.” Oh, that was interesting, if Steve was paying close enough attention, or maybe it was a super soldier thing. But wait, hold up, rewind, _seizure?_

 

Oh crap. Tony closed his eyes. “Jarvis?” he said, because he was in medical in the tower, right? Jarvis would be there, unless he'd run off out of fear that Tony would murder him, but that would be only if he'd done something wrong, but also AIs couldn't run, so yeah, he was totally supposed to be there.

“Yes sir?” Jarvis said, with obvious relief, and sure he was an AI but he was human enough to know when he was in shit, and he didn't sound like that, but maybe he was getting better at lying, or maybe some of Tony's brain had fallen out of his ears or something, but for now, he was gonna take it at face value because _fuck,_ thinking was tiring.

“What did you tell them?” Tony asked, his eyes still closed, because he didn't want to see The Look on Steve's face, and the other people all probably had Looks too, but it was mostly Steve.

“Nothing sir, as per your request.”

He sighed in relief, but oh, there it was, wow, Steve's Look had progressed to psychic, because damn, Tony could  _feel_ The Look.

“What would there be for Jarvis to tell us Tony?” Steve asked, and it was definitely with a frown, with a combination of The Look and a frown, for sure.

Bruce cleared his throat, and Tony remembered why Bruce was his favourite. “He needs to rest. You can grill him later, I'm sure, he won't be going anywhere for a while, but I need you guys to clear out for a bit.”

Clint was muttering to Tasha, and Thor sighed loudly, but declared he was going in search of pop-tarts for when he was allowed to visit Tony again, and when the room was clear except for the two of them, Tony opened his eyes to look at Bruce.

And yeah, he totally deserved the puppy eyes that he was getting.

 


	15. Chapter 15

“What are you not telling me Tony?” Bruce asked, pulling up one of those god awful chairs to sit in, and he had to add that to the list of things to do, non-awful chairs for medical, since they spent enough time in there.

“Um. Nothing?” he tried, because he had to try, he couldn't just spill it on the first time, he had a reputation to maintain.

But Bruce blasted him with those sad eyes again and Tony sort of melted under them, and wow he didn't know Bruce had a superpower. (You know, besides the angry green giant thing.)

“That this maybe isn't the first seizure I've had,” he mumbled, picking at the tape holding the IV in his hand, which totally wasn't necessary, and really how long had he been out for?

Bruce laid a hand over his. “And maybe, what number would it be?”

“J?”

“The tenth, sir, although not all of those were tonic-clonic seizures.”

Bruce groaned, and Tony worried about him for a minute, but it wasn't a green sort of groan, more like a universal disappointed in Tony groan. He'd been getting those a lot lately.

Bruce lifted his hand to his face, which gave Tony the opportunity to pick at the tape again, because seriously, how long was he out for that Bruce decided this would be a good idea?

“It's totally under control,” Tony told him, with an air of confidence that was mostly a facade, one that they could both see through.

“It's really not,” Bruce said, swatting Tony's hand away. “Leave it alone, you're dehydrated, which is probably your normal state of being, which is not healthy. Tony? You need to drink water. Not coffee, not alcohol, water.”

“J, tell the good doctor how much alcohol I've had in the last couple of weeks.”

“One beer sir.”

“And coffee?”

“Sir has managed to limit himself to one cup a day, except when he was up for 50 hours due to the 'invasion of the slime monsters from outer space', as he so poetically deemed it.”

“Okay,” Bruce said slowly. “But you still have to drink water.”

Tony shrugged, not wanting to admit the reason, but Bruce was clever, so he probably knew already.

“How long was I out for?”

Bruce glanced away.

“Brucie...”

“Maybe not all that long, but I'd just gotten the IV in when you started to stir, and I was worried that you were going to rip it out and hurt yourself, and I wanted to run some tests before you snuck out of medical, so it may have been... a couple of hours?” He glanced up at Tony, obviously ashamed.

“You drugged me,” Tony said flatly.

“Barely,” Bruce admitted. “Mild sedative and painkiller. Even with your tolerance, you shouldn't have been down for more than an hour, so you must have been exhausted.”

Tony sank back into his pillow, unaware that he'd even been... unsunk out of it. That totally wasn't a word, but he'd been drugged today, so he had an excuse.

“I didn't put you on any anti-convulsant drugs. Jarvis advised against it, which I now suspect is because you're already on medications.”

“Um, yeah. Thanks J.”

“I would not need to play pharmacist if you simply informed your teammates that you were taking medication, as I'd suggested numerous times before.”

“You're not my mother, shut up.”

“Of course sir.”

Bruce was totally still staring at him.

“What?” he asked.

“So you've had seizures before. Not all tonic-clonic, but this was the tenth. What the hell Tony?”

He sighed, picking at the tape around his IV just to keep his hands busy, and Bruce must have recognized that, because he didn't interfere.

“Well, I sort of had a seizure in the workshop, which was when Jarvis called you back from dinner. I didn't want to tell you, because I didn't know anything at the time, so I didn't want to worry everyone. So I swore him to secrecy. Then we figured I'd probably had a seizure three days before, cause I sort of... passed out in the bathroom.”

“Stop saying 'sort of' Tony, it either happened or it didn't.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Whatever. So I did research, and Jarvis helped me look up the tech for the diagnosis, and then I reinvented the EEG, and Jarvis helped induce a seizure under totally controlled conditions to look at the EEG patterns or whatever. I just made it, I didn't interpret it.”

Bruce frowned. “Who did?”

“Sent it to a neurologist friend. He confirmed that it was a seizure and prescribed medication. I did a CT scan too, or rather you did, thanks for that by the way, but it didn't show anything. I can't do an MRI, because hello,” he tapped on the arc reactor, “Would not go well. And that was about that. Post traumatic epilepsy.”

Bruce frowned. “You haven't had any major traumas, not that I know of anyway.”

“Probably more of a cumulative thing.” Tony shrugged. “Too many concussions.”

He balled his fists up in the sheets. “You can't tell Steve,” he begged, because yeah, it was begging, and they both knew that. “He'll bench me, you know that. And I can't do it. Bruce,” he pleaded.

 

Bruce was considering it. He really was. Tony could practically see the debate going on in his head, the hulk on one shoulder, his rational science brain on the other. Honestly, he wasn't sure who was on which side, but whatever.

“I have to tell Steve,” he said finally, and Tony wasn't sure which side won that argument. “But I'll fight for you. Was this a breakthrough seizure?”

At Tony's blank face, Bruce explained. “When your meds were running out? When do you take them?”

Realization dawned on him. “Oh. Yeah, I take them at dinner. Jarvis reminds me. It's supposed to be five o'clock, every day.”

“Right,” Bruce said, “And what were you doing at five o'clock today?”

“Oh...” he gasped. “I totally missed the dose.”

Bruce nodded. “It must have been around 6:30 when we finished the fight, and I dunno, another half hour after that you had the seizure.”

“Right. Jarvis was a little busy with the fight to make me take my meds.”

“To be fair sir, I did remind you. You muted all alerts regarding medications during the fight, and therefore I was unable to remind you afterwards.”

“Sorry buddy,” Tony sighed. “I need to make sure that only applies during the fight and not afterwards. This probably could have been avoided, and then no one would have had to know,” he said pointedly, staring at Bruce as he said it.

Bruce only held his hands up in self defense. “Hey. Not my call. But you know Steve is going to ask questions, so it's either me or you who tells him, and honestly, who would you rather it be?”

Damn. He was totally right on that.

“Fine,” Tony grumbled. “You can tell him. But I don't want to see anyone until tomorrow. I'm going to sleep and not talk about this until there has been coffee.”

“Sir could take his medication now Doctor Banner.”

“J, you traitor,” Tony whined. “I'm right here, you don't have to talk about me like I don't exist.”

“Thank you Jarvis,” Bruce said politely, ignoring Tony's hissy fit. “Where are they?”

“His medication can be found both in his bathroom and in the workshop.”

“Bathroom it is then,” Bruce said. “I don't want to venture into the mess that is your workshop alone.”

“Plus the bots,” Tony added.

“And them,” Bruce concurred. “I'll be right back. If you're not in this bed the whole time I will give Barton permission to shoot you. In a non-vital place, of course, but there will be a lot of pain.”

Tony glared at him. “Fine, whatever dad.”

He crossed his arms and slouched down in the bed, glaring at Bruce as he left.

“You're not my favourite anymore,” he said to the empty room.

 

Bruce returned shortly after with the three pills and handed Tony a cup of water to go with them.

“Drink the whole thing,” he ordered when Tony tried to hand it back still half full. Tony pouted at him, but Bruce had somehow become immune, and he didn't know how that happened, because he was adorable. But it was okay, because Bruce plied him with another lollipop, damn that man was good.

Lime this time, which he had to admit was an improvement. Maybe SI could go into candy production. He'd totally be a kick ass Willy Wonka.

 

He mourned the absence of Dum-E to throw the stick at him, and was still debating what to do with it when Bruce returned in his sleep clothes.

“Whoa, I am an adult. I don't need to be babysat Brucie boy.”

“Jarvis, does Tony need to be babysat in order to keep him in medical?”

“Based on prior incidents, sir will leave medical before being discharged 87 percent of the time. This evidence strongly point to Mr Stark requiring supervision.”

“I'm disassembling you Jarvis,” Tony muttered, kicking his feet under the sheets.

“I look forward to it sir.”

Tony flung the lollipop stick at the nearest camera to make himself feel better, and it nearly worked. He pointedly turned his back to Bruce and slouched into the pillows, pulling out the phone from his pocket that hadn't been confiscated, which was a mistake on their part.

And yeah, maybe he fell asleep not long after, but it was because he wanted to, not because he was tired or something stupid like that.

 


	16. Chapter 16

Bruce was still there the next morning when Tony woke up, crouched in a god awful position with his head on Tony's bed that made him hurt to look at. He debated not waking him up, but figured he would appreciate it in the end, and plus, Bruce tended to prefer when Tony didn't remove his own IVs. Something about medical things, not like he was listening.

“Big green,” he said gently, poking Bruce on the shoulder. “Don't be mad, but it's morning and I kinda want to blow this popsicle stand before Steve gets a hold of me.”

Bruce picked his head up and looked around blearily, which was kind of adorable, since his glasses were skewed on his face and his forehead had blanket lines.

“Come on Bruce, get with the show. And they say I'm not a morning person.”

“Yeah, yeah, give me a second,” Bruce said, yawning. He ruffled his hair, also adorable, and adjusted his glasses before getting up and finding gloves.

In less than a minute he'd removed the line from Tony's hand and taped a gauze pad over it.

“Excellent Bruce,” he declared, patting the man on the cheek. He threw the sheets off his legs. “I'm outta here. Thanks for the stuff, blah blah, the usual.”

Bruce only blinked at him again. “Okay.”

 

Tony was kind of surprised that Steve wasn't hovering outside medical, but it was early, which meant he could be on his morning run. Or eating one of his like, twelve meals. The man could  _eat._

 

Tony found him shortly after, in an even better tactical location. Right smack in front of the coffee machine.

“Tony-” he began.

“Later Steve. I need food and coffee. And a shower, because robots last night, hello?”

Steve looked like he wanted to protest, but hey, he was Captain America, and even he couldn't deny his fellow man his basic human rights. Coffee was a basic human right, surely.

He ducked past Steve, and yes, it was working, because he wasn't following him like a lost little puppy. Which was good, because apparently his immunity to puppy dog eyes was severely compromised, and he should probably put that on the list.

Side note, how long was this list getting?

Best not to know.

 

There was coffee and it was like nectar of the gods, and then there was was blessed hot water and it was glorious and then there was more coffee, just because and Tony didn't really care what he ate with that, but there were  _somehow_ leftover waffles in the fridge with fruit sauce, and really, praise the lord.

 

Steve must have been hovering, or maybe he had some sort of sixth (seventh?) sense for when he could harass Tony, because as soon as the last bite of waffle had been swallow, Steve was in attack mode, and yeah, too close there buddy.

 

“Tony-” he began, and yeah, it was more desperate than last time, wow, he really was like a puppy that someone had kicked and really just still wanted to be loved.

Tony held up a hand. “No, I'm not going to stop just because my brain is fucked up. My heart is fucked up too, it was before, but did you kick me off the team then? No. So I'm not sure what your problem is Steve, but it's sure as hell not going to keep me from fighting with you guys.”

“Tony, what happens if you have a seizure in the middle of a fight.”

“What-”

“Tony! Tell me, honestly, what will happen if you have a seizure in the middle of a fight. Does Jarvis know? I can ask Jarvis.”

Tony glared at him. “Of course Jarvis knows. And no, you cannot ask him. If you're gonna go around my back and talk to my AI about me and my medical conditions, that's lower than I thought you'd ever sink Rogers.”

Steve glanced down, and there was some perverse pleasure in knowing that he'd shamed Captain America.

“This is what will happen. If I start to have a seizure, which I shouldn't, because I'm on medication now, and so far it's working very well, Jarvis takes control of the suit. I've made modifications to both the suit and the programming of the suit and Jarvis so that if I have a seizure, and notice I said if there, not when, Rogers, that is very important to note, if I have a seizure I will be safe and everyone else will be safe and there will no be missiles flying off at the general population, okay?”

Steve grabbed his arm. “You think I'm worried about you shooting the population of New York?”

Tony glanced at his arm, and shook Steve's grasp off before looking back up at him. “Um, yeah. Duh. You should be anyway.”

“Well, I am,” Steve hedged, “But what I'm mostly caring about is you. Not about your fighting or keeping our backs, I'm worried about you. What if you get hurt while you have a seizure in the suit?”

Tony stared at him. “Were you even listening to the thing I said like, ten seconds ago? I'm on top of it. I've handled it. Me and J are good to go. Besides Cap, I'm on meds now. This isn't going to be a thing, okay?”

Steve glared at him. “Are you licensed to drive?”

Tony's face fell. “Not at the moment, no but-”

“So you're telling me you aren't allowed to operate a car, but a piece of advanced weaponry, yeah that's fine?” he hissed. “No Tony!”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Yes, because every car has an AI built in to drive it in case of emergencies. It's  _totally_ the same thing. And the driving thing is only temporary. There is no precedent for this Steve. You can't take something out of context and apply it here. It doesn't work.” Tony gritted his teeth. “Despite all your beliefs, I am a grown man capable of making rational decisions, and I am choosing to continue fighting alongside my team.”

Steve looked like he wanted to protest again, and hell no, he'd had enough of this for a day, for a fucking week, the rest of his life even.

“Steve, the seizures have taken away enough. I can't drive. Dum-E and U won't let me operate the blender on my own, no matter how many times Jarvis and I explain that it's okay. I have to take medication to keep my brain from misfiring. I have lost independence, dignity, and a hell of a lot of time over this, but there is one thing I will not lose, and that is this team.”

Leaving Steve with a stunned expression, Tony stormed off to his workshop and locked everyone out.

 

“Screw Steve,” Tony announced. “Screw Steve and his need to protect me from myself. Screw that. Jarvis, crank the tunes,” he ordered, throwing himself on the stool and sliding halfway across the workshop.

“You're my favourites now,” he told the bots, who perked their cameras up at that. “Yeah. You guys. Maybe Bruce. But definitely not Steve. Steve is mean.”

They probably couldn't hear him clearly over the music, but they nodded anyway.

He kicked off and sent the stool flying back towards the couch, probably with a little too much force, but whatever.

He was in a mood and he was mad and he'd just slept and maybe had one cup of coffee too many so he was good to go. Inventing time or whatever. And his suit was fixed and updated and adjusted for the whole seizure thing, because he hadn't been lying to Steve, really.

 


	17. Chapter 17

Back when he'd first figured it out, hell what was it, two weeks now? Two and a half? Damn, he should have been keeping track. Back when he'd first figured it out, that he had epilepsy of a very special kind, cause yeah, that's how he rolled, back then, he looked up the specifics. Because if anyone could make something to fix it, he thought that it could be him. After all, he'd fixed his heart (in a cave, with stuff that basically amounted to scraps) so surely he could fix his brain too.

But the problem with epilepsy was that no one actually understood the brain. Sure, the heart was complex too, but doctors had mostly figured it out, with AV and SA nodes and fibres and electrical signals that induced heartbeats. They could pace them when things went wrong and restart it and reset it and when it wasn't the wiring that was the problem, when it was the plumbing, they could replace pipes or the whole damn system.

Brains... brains were much more complicated. There was a reason that brain transplants didn't happen, because hello, that was just stupid. The brain was everything, and even the top experts barely had a clue where to begin.

 

Tony quickly realized he wasn't going to be able to cure epilepsy, at least, not in the span of a couple all-nighters in the workshop and excessive amounts of coffee. People had devoted their entire lives to the cause, people who were a hell of a lot more familiar with the brain than Tony was (he preferred machines, thank you very much) and still had not much more than a few treatments that sometimes worked to show for it.

 

Tony was rather proud of his intelligence, because yes, he was pretty sure that he was smart. He had a lot of evidence to prove that, including a billion dollar company and an AI he'd written. But when it came to the brain, and seizures, he was pretty much the equivalent of Dum-E.

Seizures were the result of excessive firing and synchronization of neurons. He wasn't entirely sure what that meant, but he knew it interrupted the normal working of the brain, and was what caused him to go from a snarking smartass to being in tremors on the ground.

And the brain was electricity. He got that much. Electrical potentials and depolarization, action potentials and resting potentials and yes, he understood that. He'd been working with circuits for longer than he could remember,  _and that was a long time._ But the brain wasn't a circuit he could fix.

It was immensely frustrating to realize he couldn't fix this about himself.

Because he fixed his heart, hell, he did more than that, he fixed his heart and turned himself into a superhero, because he didn't just fix things, he made them  _better._ But there was no fixing his brain, and to realize that was immensely frustrating.

 

So instead he did what he could to fix things. He fixed his suit to make it safe for him in case he had a seizure in it. He fixed the bots to know what to do if he had a seizure in the workshop. He added programs to Jarvis to make sure he would be safe in the tower. He started a charity devoted to researching, treating, and curing post-traumatic epilepsy (all anonymous of course, because he couldn't have people thinking he was going soft or something). He donated to programs for children with epilepsy so they could have normal lives instead of being bound by the fear of having a seizure. He donated to public awareness campaigns to make seizures something not to be afraid of.

He couldn't fix seizures, he couldn't fix epilepsy, he couldn't fix himself, so he did what he knew best.

He threw money at people who could fix those things, he made the technology better so they could do it, (he was thinking about the EEG machines that SI had been cranking out, which so far, had been greeted with open arms and joyous responses), he helped awareness campaigns and programs for kids and he did all that he could.

Because as much as he hated to admit it, that was all he could do.

 

But here was Steve, telling him that what he was doing wasn't good enough.

Okay, maybe not his exact words, or even sort of his words, but that was definitely how it was coming across to Tony.

Because if Tony couldn't fix himself and couldn't save the world with the Avengers, then what the hell was he supposed to do?

 

Yeah.

So Steve could fuck off, because Tony was a  _grown man,_ and completely capable of making decisions, no matter how many times people tried to tell him he couldn't.

 


	18. Chapter 18

So when the Avengers Assemble alarm sounded... he thought it was the next morning, hard to tell, he took his pills somewhere in there when Jarvis prompted him to, and then went back to... he wasn't sure what he was building, but he knew it was important, Tony suited up along with the rest of the team and went out to save New York from whatever hellish thing was trying to wreck it this time.

 

Which turned out to be fucking mole people.  _Mole people._

Tony was so done.

 

And of course, mole people didn't speak English, or any other language that people on earth spoke, but at least Thor could understand them, with that handy dandy Allspeak.

 

The king or leader guy was perched on top of Tony's favourite Thai place, which was _so not cool,_ with an army of his mole... people? around him.

He was chattering away furiously, and it made no sense to anyone, except Thor, who was attempting to translate for the rest of the team.

 

“His name is... Talpas... Oh, this is an odd name. Kaaarl,” Thor boomed, because it seemed he didn't know how to speak any other way.

“Seriously, Karl? His name is Karl?”

“No man of iron, Kaaarl,” Thor corrected.

Tony frowned and wished he could rub his forehead in a gesture of exhaustion, because honestly.

The mole... thing, man, Kaaarl, whatever, let out another giant screech squeak thing, and Tony could practically hear Thor concentrating.

“He says he is king of the mole people, and will take over this great city and banish the humans to live underground in penance for what was done to them.”

Tony sighed and fired a repulsor at one of the mole people who was trying to drag a hostage down the street, which was almost laughable considering they were only three feet tall, but he bet the woman in its grasp was slightly less amused, since she ran away screaming. Maybe that wasn't the best way of freeing her, but whatever. “Seriously, and he's what? Gonna live in the sunshine for the rest of his days? He's gonna need a lot of sunscreen for that.”

Clint snorted over the coms, and thank god there was at least someone to appreciate his humour, even if he was a jerk half of the time. Maybe it was because he was so like Tony, except for the genius billionaire thing.

Yeah, okay, Tony liked Clint. (He didn't build the guy a range in his tower for nothing, after all, and seriously the guy was a genius with a bow. He kind of wanted to take Clint apart to see what made him work, but then there was the whole not very good with biology thing. Also human experimentation... that was number two on the list of things Pepper banned, and her word was law.)

He blasted another mole person, this time who didn't have a hostage, because he'd maybe learned his lesson about scaring civilians.

He sighed. “Can't the police handle this? I mean, it's not that big of a deal. They don't have weapons, they don't have superpowers, and there's not that many of them. I don't see why we had to suit up for this.”

“They're an unknown enemy. The police didn't know how to fight them or what threat they posed. There's nothing wrong with it being a simple mission.” Steve spoke to him like he was talking down a child, which Tony took offense to, because, hello, genius.

“I must agree with the man of iron,” Thor rumbled. “I have had gaming spars that were more exciting than this.”

Natasha hummed in confirmation, which was no shock to Tony, cause he was pretty sure she could have fought off the invasion of the mole people on her own. In her sleep. Blindfolded.

“Bruce probably didn't even have to get angry,” Tony pointed out, because yeah, poor Hulk was confused about what he was supposed to do with the tiny mole creatures.

Steve only sighed at him, which Tony suspected had more to do with the whole 'don't be fighting cause you're a delicate flower and could die or something' rather than the snarking over the open com.

Tony shot at another mole person, and wow, this was not at all challenging. He'd played video games that were more taxing, and those were the ones that he didn't invent.

 

He blinked and he was totally not where he was just hovering, nope, definitely not, and that kind of scared him.

“J? What happened? Did we win?”

Wow, he really hoped that Jarvis turned the open coms off, because he did not want to be broadcasting his confusion to the entire team, especially after what Steve said... yesterday, he was pretty sure it was yesterday, cause yeah, daylight and stuff.

“The fight is wrapping up now, but yes, you are winning. You had a seizure, an atonic one to be specific. You've been unresponsive for nine minutes now, but I have been flying the suit for you.”

Nine minutes, which was sort of a long time, especially if he was quiet. The team may have noticed that. “Did they talk to me?”

There was a hesitation. “I may have responded for you,” Jarvis admitted.

Tony laughed. “That's my boy.”

“Captain Rogers and Agent Romanoff are currently taking out the leader of the so called mole people, and the rest of the team is regrouping to meet them. I suggest you head there,” Jarvis told him, while already steering him in that direction.

“Thanks J, just need a minute to get my bearings.”

It was somewhat unnerving to just lose time like that, especially in the middle of a fight, but Jarvis had taken care of everything, and no one was the wiser. Probably, anyway.

 

He landed next to Barton, who'd somehow gotten off the roof of the building unharmed, which was a nice change.

He glanced at Tony and signed at him.  _Something happen?_

Tony frowned, but it was inside the suit, so Clint couldn't see it. The suit was nowhere near dextrous enough to sign back, so he only shrugged.

_You were quiet for a minute. You alright?_

Tony was thankful that Steve didn't know sign language, yet anyway.

He kind of wanted to tell Clint, because he seemed to be the most understanding out of all the Avengers. Steve was worried, cause that was what he did. Bruce knew the medical side of it, and he worried over that. Thor... well, Tony wasn't sure how much Thor understood, but he seemed to be firmly in the middle of the street on this one. Blocking traffic. Natasha was impossible to read, but Tony didn't think she was super happy having Tony as backup when he wasn't entirely reliable. Not that Tasha was ever super happy, but the point still stood. Clint understood what it was like to be judged for having a weakness. After all, he was mostly deaf, but that didn't change the fact that he was smart, annoying as hell, and a damn near perfect shot. (Tony almost pitied the junior SHIELD agents who expressed the thought that Barton shouldn't be an Avengers anywhere near the ducts. Almost. But not really. It was their own fault if they got shot. And really, Coulson had talked him down from real arrows to paint ones, so.... Yeah, no sympathy.)

Instead Tony just shrugged.

_We'll talk later,_ Clint told him.

“If you two are done having a secret meeting, we're gonna head back to the tower now,” Natasha said dryly.

“Jealous?” Tony quipped. Natasha totally knew what Clint was saying, but she wasn't going to butt in on that.

She only shook her head at him.

 

Bruce stumbled over to them, his new pants firmly around his waist, which was a miracle. But not, because Tony made them, so it was science.

Sometimes he wondered how different they were. Thor would talk about that sometimes, how he can from a place where science and magic were mixed together in a fantastical place. (Which reminded Tony, he wanted to visit. Add to the list.)

“Home?” he asked. “Food. I need food, and then sleep.”

Natasha smiled at him, and that was scary on its own, and led Bruce gently to the waiting SHIELD van. He got shotgun, which Clint was clearly disappointed about, and Natasha glared at him to say otherwise before climbing in the driver's seat.

Thankfully, he was clever enough to not fight her on that. Steve climbed into the back seat.

“Want a ride Legolas?” Tony offered, and Clint considered that and nodded. He waved at Natasha before Tony gripped him around the waist and blasted off.

 

They weren't far from the tower, and Tony was sure to go slow enough that Clint didn't lose his breakfast, he was pretty sure that was the last meal he'd eaten. He set Clint down gently before getting the suit disassembled.

“I meant what I said,” he told Tony casually. “This is later, and we're talking. I know you, and I know your AI, and I can tell the two apart. So spill now before everyone else gets here, cause I'll understand, and you know Steve won't.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Wow, you just don't quit. Yeah, fine, I had an atonic during the fight, and guess what? No one died. Nothing bad happened. No one else noticed. So it's clear that I can still fight, and I'm going to.”

Clint examined him. “Yeah, I know. I'm not gonna argue with you Tony.”

Tony slouched with relief. “Thank god.”

“And I'm not going to tell Steve or anyone else, but I can't promise that Natasha won't work it out of me, if she didn't notice. She's sneaky like that. But she won't tell Steve either. He'll come around, don't worry.”

He set off down the hall, probably to climb in the vents, which Tony really really hated, and also found endearing in a strange way.

“And thanks for the ride!” he called.

Tony rolled his eyes at him and headed back to the workshop before the rest of the team (Steve) could return.

 


	19. Chapter 19

The next days sort of stumbled by in a haze of minimal amounts of coffee, short dinners where he mostly appeared upstairs to steal food to take his pills with, and the occasional catnap.

So it really wasn't his fault when he looked up from a nap on his workbench (and yes, it was a nap, not a seizure, he made sure of that) and had no clue what he was looking at.

 

“Um, Jarvis, what was I making?” he asked, squinting at the thing that was on the workbench.

“You weren't making a whole lot of sense, but from what I gathered, it's a Tribble with very limited AI.”

“Oh,” Tony said faintly. “Great. I'm making AIs in a sleepless haze again. I've got to stop doing that. I mean, look how Dum-E turned out.”

Dum-E perked up at the mention of his name.

Tony rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I'm talking about you. Just cause I've kept you around doesn't mean you're useful. The smoothie you tried to feed me this morning had sawdust it in. I don't even know where you got sawdust from.”

A thought occurred. “Oh god. Jarvis, if it's a Tribble, does that mean... how many baby Tribbles can I expect?”

“Thankfully, you seemed to modify the reproductive method of the Tribble so that the gestation period, if you could call it that, is longer, and produces fewer young.”

“Oh thank god. I was worried about a Tribble infestation.”

“Not an immediate worry sir, but as they seem to be immortal, you may run into problems in the future.”

Tony waved a hand. “Future, whatever. I'll deal with it then.”

“Well,” he muttered to the fuzzy thing on his workbench. “I'm going to have to name you, aren't I?”

The Tribble purred in response.

“Hm... I don't really have the best track record with naming things. Have you seen my robots?” he told the Tribble. “The only success I've had is with Jarvis, and that was hardly original.”

He pondered that. “Oh man, I bet Thor would love you. Maybe you can be the team's Tribble, and then each Avenger can get one of your babies?”

The Tribble squeaked, and Tony took that to mean yes.

“Excellent. Jarvis, what day of the week is it?”

“Thursday sir.”

“What, again? Wasn't it just Thursday?”

“It does work like that.”

“Smartass,” Tony muttered. “Whose week is it to pick, since they totally overruled me getting a redo?”

He still wasn't happy about that. See if he helped the next time the microwave had an existential crisis.

 

_Oh god, what am I doing? What is the meaning of life?_

Clint had helpfully entered 42, and in response, the microwave refused to do anything until Tony completely reprogrammed it.

 

Yeah, that would teach them.

“Agent Romanoff's sir.”

He sighed. If it was Natasha's turn, he could guarantee it would be something he'd never seen before, possibly in black and white, and maybe in Russian. “And what food?”

“Indian. It arrived just a moment ago if you'd like to join the rest of the team.”

“What, they weren't even going to invite me? In my own house? Rude,” he muttered, cradling the unnamed Tribble in his arm and pushing the button for the elevator.

 

He ignored Steve and helped himself to a plate, taking care not to squish the Tribble under his arm, which was chirping occasionally.

“Um, Tony, what the hell is that?” Clint asked.

“Oh, I made a Tribble. I figured this one could be the team one, and everyone can have their own when it gives birth. It doesn't have the same reproductive cycle as the fictional Tribble, which was a good move on my part I guess.”

He set the Tribble in Clint's arms. “Be careful. It's still just a baby. And it has limited AI, so be nice.”

“Aw, what did mean Tony do to you?” he cooed, which was wow, just undignified for a sniper.

The Tribble purred happily in his grasp as Clint tickled it under... well, what was probably its chin?

“What is this Tribble you speak of friend Tony?”

Oh yeah, of course Thor had never heard of Tribbles. Steve too, probably.

“It's from Star Trek. Remind me to show you the whole episode later, but for now, Jarvis, can you bring up a clip or two?”

The tv lit up with good old Captain Kirk and Mr Spock, the former buried in a mountain of pompoms, which were supposed to be Tribbles.

They watched as Spock listed off just how many there were, and Tony congratulated himself again for adjusting the reproductive cycle.

 

“Except instead of one Tribble making ten every 12 hours, it'll be... Jarvis, what is it?”

“One Tribble producing one every three days. Of course, there are rare cases when it could be twins.”

The Tribble in Clint's arms purred happily, and he looked gleeful. “So you're telling me this thing's gonna pop a baby out in three days?”

Tony shrugged. “Probably closer to two and a half, but yeah.”

Bruce rubbed his forehead wearily. “Tony, in a month's time we'll have 1024 Tribble, assuming none of them die, and that they all keep reproducing at that rate. And barring any twins.”

“Oh,” he said, pausing in the middle of scooping rice onto his plate. “I should have realized that. Jarvis, did I realize that?”

“I believe you'll find that a Tribble can only produce a single offspring, or twins, whichever the case may be.”

Tony sighed. “Oh thank god. I did think of that then. Phew. We won't be overrun guys, it's okay. Now, who took all of the Tandoori chicken?”

He glared at Clint.

“Hey Stark, you show up late, you miss out,” he said with a shrug.

“I'm only late because I was invented a new species, and oh yeah, no one invited me,” he snapped, taking the Tribble back from Clint. “You're unfit to be a father.”

Clint shrugged. “I'll get one eventually. Does that one have a name?”

“Not yet,” Tony told him. “I figured since this one would be a team one, we could name it together.”

He braced for the inevitable barrage of names, and then the fight for who would win.

“Ullr!” Thor cheered.

Everyone else glanced at each other.

“What was that big guy?” Steve asked, unsure if it was something he specifically was missing out on, or just an Asgardian thing in general.

“It means the brilliant one. He is well known for his archery and skiing abilities among all realms.” He frowned. “Although maybe not yours. Long ago, perhaps.”

Clint had perked up at the mention of archery. “I like it.”

Well, that was two in agreement, so unless three of them could agree on a name, that would be it for the Tribble.

Tony shrugged. “We'll all get our own, so if everyone's fine with that...” He glanced around, not making eye contact with Steve, because yes, he was still mad.

Natasha shrugged, Bruce put up no argument, and hell, that was majority, so Steve didn't even count.

“Ullr it is then. Thor, you're gonna have to write that down somewhere, because I've got no clue how to spell it, and it's gotta go on the birth certificate.”

 


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cookies to anyone who can figure out why everyone chose those names.

Days passed, and the team managed to gather for all the Tribble births, which were short and generally uneventful.

Tony was kind, and gave Clint the first one, even if he threatened him with child protective services (or maybe the SPCA would have been more apt, he wasn't sure) if he didn't take good care of him.

Clint declared him adorable and spent the rest of the day leading it around the vents, and was quite concerned when three days later it gave birth to the one Natasha claimed. Bruce declared both parent and child healthy, and everyone parted ways until the next one.

 

Then everyone had one except Tony.

They were all waiting for Bruce's to give birth, everyone gathered with their respective Tribbles, birth certificates for each stuck to the fridge with magnets, one for everyone except Tony.

Finally, the Tribble became two, and everyone cheered. Tony clutched his little darling to his cheek as it purred.

“Hey buddy,” he greeted, reluctantly handing him over to Bruce to be checked.

(“I don't know why Tony,” he'd said. “They're not even organic, not entirely anyway, and I'm not even a doctor!”

“You're the best we've got,” Tony told him, clutching Ullr closely. Of course, Bruce sighed and gave in.)

“It's fine,” Bruce told him, handing Tony's Tribble back and picking up his own. Now that everyone had them, Tony wasn't sure what they would do with the rest. His was pregnant already, and then it would give birth. Maybe if he developed Tribble birth control...

The baby Tribble (even though it was the same size as everyone else's) whined at him.

“Aw, what is it buddy? Longing for your... erm... daddy?” he asked, holding it closer to Bruce's again.

Bruce's Tribble began whining as well, and the rest in the room followed suit.

“That's... weird,” Tony noted, kneeling down next to Ullr, who was sitting on the floor, apparently now quite sadly.

 

Tony found himself on the couch.

“Um, guys?”

Natasha dropped from the sky, or something, to look at him. “He's awake,” she announced.

The rest of the team appeared, and yeah, that was a bit creepy.

_What?_ he signed to Clint.

“You sort of... collapsed,” Clint said with a shrug. “You were already so close to the ground, it wasn't a big deal.”

Tony frowned. “No twitching?” That was more to Jarvis, who was more informed than anyone else on this topic.

“No sir, it appeared to be an atonic seizure. I've sent an email to Doctor Carlyle, as he requested to be notified of any seizures.”

“Thanks buddy.”

“What do you remember?” Bruce prompted.

Tony scrunched up his face, cause that should help him think, right? “My brand new baby was... whining I think? And everyone else was too, Ullr and all your little guys. Which was weird, cause they haven't done that before. Oh, is my Tribble okay? Did I squish him?”

“He's fine,” Bruce assured him, and then nodded. “But yeah. The Tribbles seemed really anxious, if a Tribble can be anxious.”

It took a minute, but it dawned on Tony. “Well, what did you know?” he said faintly. “I accidentally invented an early warning system for seizures. Go Tribbles!”

Thor frowned. “I am not sure of what you speak, but I do so enjoy these furry creatures, especially Ullr.”

“Hey Steve, if I outfit one of these in the suit, will you be okay with me being on the team?” Tony asked, offering his best smile. And really, that smile had gotten him laid and sealed deals and possibly even saved his life. It was a _good_ smile.

Even Captain America couldn't be entirely resistant.

 

He sighed, in that way that he did, and Tony braced himself for The Look, but it never came.

“Of course. And Tony, I'm sorry about before. Bruce helped me learn more about it, and if I'd known about the medication and how effective it was, I wouldn't have been so...”

“Dickish?” Tony offered, and Steve frowned.

“Overbearing.”

Tony nodded. “That too.”

“I was worried about you getting hurt. That's all, okay? I worry. That's what I do. I worry about you falling from the sky during a seizure and I worry about Clint falling off a building with no one there to catch him. I worry about Bruce getting lost alone after he transforms back and I worry about Natasha not having backup. Heck, I even worry about Thor, even though he's a god.”

Tony blinked. “That's very nice of you.”

Behind Steve, Clint was signing something to Natasha and trying very hard not to laugh. Natasha was giving him a death glare.

Oh yeah, he was supposed to be listening.

“I'm sorry that I didn't trust you, but you haven't always been...”

“Sane? Stable? Honestly, I could keep going, there's a laundry list of character defects,” Tony smirked.

“Responsible.”

Oh. Oh. Okay then, he really went there, and no, Tony had to stop that, because if they thought he was responsible, there was no telling what would come after that. Nice? Grownup? Considerate?

Hell no, this had to stop.

“Oh, don't worry Cap, I'm not. But me and my trusty Tribble, who I've still got to name, and no, I won't be accepting suggestions from the audience Barton, will be all set to go for the next mission, okay? I'll make him his own suit and everything. Not sure how he'll fly it, but it'll be great. If that's all I've really got to go get started on that, since you never know when evil will strike next!”

Still talking, Tony made a quick escape, clutching his Tribble to his chest.

 

Once in the elevator he cradled it close to his chest. “You do need a name,” he told the Tribble thoughtfully, and it chirped adorably at him as they headed down to the lab. “I should probably go about this scientifically.”

 

That was where Bruce found him hours later, with an old fashioned white board set up. He was sitting on his stool staring at them.

“Tony?”

“Busy.”

“With... what?”

“Naming my Tribble.”

“With science?”

“Have you seen my robots? I've tried to go without doing it scientifically, and I ended up with Dum-E, U, and Butterfingers.”

Bruce shuffled his feet. “Yeah, I suppose,” he said, and Tony could hear the little smile.

 

“See, everyone else has named theirs already. We've got Ullr, which is the team one. Thor has Alva, so that's one girl. I'm pretty sure Ullr is a guy? Natasha has Vera, Clint has Legolas, and wow, I still can't believe he named it that. Steve has James,” Tony had to stop and roll his eyes at that, because _come on_. What an original name. “You've got Andrade. Hell, even Coulson has one, and he named his Lola. That makes three girls and four guys. I need to name mine something not too close to anyone else's, and possibly even out the gender imbalance. But I'm really feeling it's a guy, so I've sort of thrown that out the window.”

“Right,” Bruce said, and he was totally just humouring Tony now. “What about naming him after someone you lost?”

And ouch, that hurt, because there were so many people he'd lost. Some of them he'd rather forget, and some of them who  _hurt_ to think about.

There were his parents (hell no he was not naming his awesome Tribble after his father) and there was Obie (again, fuck no), and Yinsen (which would hurt too much) and Jarvis (already used). Yeah, he could name his Tribble after his mother, but it was a boy Tribble, and Maria was not appropriate for his son. Thing.

_Oh!_

 

“Bruce, you're a genius,” Tony exclaimed, and if Bruce said anything after that, Tony wasn't listening, because he was busy naming his Tribble and building a suit and about ten other things at the same time.

 

 

* * *

 

 

And maybe the next time that rock monsters invaded the city (because yes, it had happened before, and wow, he was so over it already) Tony brought Collin along in his own suit.

Of course he didn't give the Tribble guns, he wasn't irresponsible.

He did have a built in taser for self defense though, and it served Clint right for trying to fly on him.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sad this is over, because I really loved Tony and his Tribbles. Perhaps they'll appear again.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[ART] The Trouble With Tribbles (And Teammates and Tremors)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4708382) by [LiveDragons](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiveDragons/pseuds/LiveDragons)




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